


Freaky Friday

by romanticalgirl



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bodyswap, M/M, Pre-Series, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-24 01:25:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12002037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: Bucky wakes up and can't breathe. Steve wakes up and can. They look at each other and realize something significant has happened overnight.





	Freaky Friday

Bucky wakes up with a start, struggling for breath, certain he’s on the end of a nightmare. It takes him a few moments to get a full breath, and even that seems wrong, too shallow. Glancing out the window, he can see the tops of the buildings glowing with the sunrise. 

He knows he won’t be able to go back to sleep, so he sits up, only to sway, lightheaded. Everything feels off. He tosses the covers off onto Steve and then stops. 

Those aren’t his legs. Or his hand. Or his anything.

“Uh… Stevie?”

“G’way, Buck. ‘m sleepin’.”

“Steve.” He shoves at his shoulder, probably harder than he should.

“What?” Steve sits up and turns to glare at Bucky and freezes. “Buck?”

“I know what I think I’m seein’ and I want to know if I’m just drunk off my ass or if you’re seein’ it too.”

“You’re… uh. I think you’re me?”

“Well, shit.” Bucky exhales roughly and then starts to cough. It takes over his whole body, wringing it out, burning his lungs. He coughs hard enough to gag, retching until it feels like there’s nothing left. Tears sting his eyes and he tries to blink them away.

“Take it easy, Buck. Slow breaths. Nice and easy.” Steve puts his hand on Bucky’s shoulder and guides him back down onto the bed. “I got you.”

Bucky’s heard the words a million times before. He’s said them. They’re both surprising effective and incredible annoying. “How do you… Jesus, Steve. That’s what you go through?”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Not that…” Bucky breaks off, coughing again.

“Hey. Hey.” Steve rubs soft, slow circles against Bucky’s sternum. “You gotta calm down.”

“Right. Yeah.” Bucky takes a breath, but he can’t manage one deep enough to fill his lungs. “Okay. I’m okay.” He looks up at Steve and smiles, seeing him and suddenly realizing that, if he’s in Steve’s body, that means Steve’s in his. “Holy shit.”

“What? You gotta calm down.”

“You spend your life fighting people you’re half the size of! You don’t get to tell me to calm--” This time, instead of coughing, Bucky just starts gasping for air. His face heats up and his eyes widen and burn. He’s looking up at his goddamned self, but he swears he can see Steve in his eyes. 

“Buck! You _have_ to calm down. C’mon. Breathe. Damn it, c’mon!” He can hear the panic, and it’s so familiar that he somehow manages to gasp in some air. “There we go. You gotta stay calm for me.”

“Still... “ His voice is hoarse, weak. “Still got no room to talk.”

Steve nods, though Bucky’s pretty sure he’s not actually agreeing with him so much as figuring out something in his own head. Steve would never agree that easily, no matter what body he was in. “This is weird.”

Bucky hope his look conveys exactly how ridiculous Steve’s comment is. “Ya think?”

Steve smirks. “That really what I sound like?”

“Dunno. Did it just sound like a honkin’ goose?”

“You’re such a jerk.”

”Nice to know I’m just as handsome from this angle.”

“Conceited jerk,” Steve amends. Steve looks down at his -- no, Bucky’s -- hands. “What the hell’s goin’ on, Buck?”

Bucky glances at their rusty alarm clock. “Got no idea, but I gotta get ready for work.”

“Nope.” Steve’s eyes are wide. “No. _I_ gotta go to work. You can’t work at the docks. You’re, well, you’re me.”

“But you don’t know what to do.”

“And you can’t do it. And you can’t tell ‘em you’re sick. Not after last month.”

Steve had been sick as a dog for two weeks, and Bucky had taken off as much time as he could. Faced with this, Bucky scowls. Steve snorts a laugh, and Bucky shoves him. “Now you know how you look.”

“I don’t look like that.”

“Steve, it’s _your_ damn face.”

“Whatever. I gotta go to work.” Steve gets up and heads out of the apartment to the shared bathroom down the hall. Bucky just blows out a breath and relaxes back on the pillow, grabbing all of the blankets as he suddenly feels the cold. He closes his eyes, trying to keep his breath even when he suddenly realizes that Steve is seeing him naked. 

He jerks up and fights to keep from panicking and running out of breath again. He reassures himself that his body is like Steve’s is for him. Bucky’s body won’t react. The problem is going to be Bucky seeing Steve’s naked body. Wanting it. Not touching it.

Fuck.

**

Steve knows he shouldn’t stand there leaning against the locked door. There are at least twenty other people crammed on their floor, all sharing the same bathroom. Him doing nothing isn’t fair or right. But there’s a cheap mirror on the wall right in front of him, and if he goes to the bathroom or cleans up, he’s going to have to touch himself.

Touch Bucky.

Sweat gathers at the back of Steve’s neck, and he swallows hard. His mind is processing the fact that he can breathe easily and deeply, that he’s taller and less gangly. But all he can focus on is the fact that Bucky’s face is staring back at him. And being in Bucky’s body hasn’t made Steve want him any less.

“C’mon, Rogers. Get it together.” He takes a deep breath and chokes on it, surprised at how his lungs fill his body. It only takes a few seconds, a few shallow coughs before he’s breathing easily again. It’s strange and it’s wrong, but it feels amazing, like nothing else before.

Pushing off the door, Steve moves deliberately to the sink. There’s a thin, weak stream of cloudy, light brown water, and Steve wets his cloth, then sets it on the edge of the sink and glances down. Taking a deep breath, he holds it for a few seconds and blows it out before tugging Bucky’s undershirt off.

This isn’t anything he hasn’t seen before, but never this close, and he’s never had it under his hands and free to touch. He picks up the cloth and wrings it out, swiping it along the side of Bucky’s neck. He closes his eyes and keeps going -- his face, throat and underarms -- before he re-wets the cloth. 

Swallowing hard, he runs the fabric from shoulder to shoulder. His eyes drop closed again as he goes lower, fingertips brushing over Bucky’s nipples. Steve makes a sound deep in his throat as they harden beneath the cloth.

“No,” he tells himself fiercely. “No.” He drops the cloth and goes to the commode, deliberately not looking and barely touching as he works Bucky’s dick out and goes to the bathroom. He tucks everything in and washes his hands before hurrying back to their small apartment. He’s breathing too fast and it should bring on an asthma attack, but these are Bucky’s lungs, not his own.

He pushes the door shut behind him. “Okay. We have to fix this.”

“How?”

“I don’t know! But this is _you_. Your body. I can’t just… Just _touch_ it.”

“Steve.”

“ _No_! I’m not gonna just… It’s you. It’s private.”

“Look. I know it’s weird. Trust me. I’m sitting here in your body, so I _know_ it’s weird. But until we figure it out, we’re gonna have to just… Take care of each other. ‘S what we do, right? You and me. We take care of each other.”

“You take care of me.”

“Well, I try. But you do your best to make my job damn difficult.” He grabs Steve’s hand and Steve sits next to him on the bed. “And you take care of me too, punk. I don’t want to hear you sayin’ you don’t.” He squeezes Steve’s fingers. “We’re gonna be okay. We’ll figure it out. I’ll get some books from the library before I head into the store, then we’ll do some research. But for right now, you gotta go to work.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Steve gets up and finds Bucky’s clothes so he can get dressed. Bucky’s wrapped up in the blankets, and Steve rolls his eyes. “You know, I’d actually be out of bed.”

“Not my fault you don't know how to be lazy.”

“You’ve never been lazy a day in your life.”

“I think I was in third grade. February seventeenth, I’m pretty sure.”

Steve slaps Bucky lightly on the head. “You’ve got to work today too, so get up, ya bum.”

Bucky gets out of the bed, and Steve stares at him. He’s seen himself. He’s very aware of what he looks like, but it feels different seeing himself through Bucky’s eyes, seeing Bucky in his eyes. It’s disorienting as hell, and any self-esteem he has slips away. Seeing himself from outside is even worse.

“Okay. So. Well.” Steve grabs his shoes, stops, sets them down, and grabs Bucky’s boots.. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Bucky gives Steve a mock salute. “See ya, Buck.”

Steve glares back at him. “Today’s gonna last forever.”

**

Bucky fills one of their pots with water and carries it from the bathroom back to his and Steve’s place. He heats it up on the stove, staring at nothing until the steam spirals up. Just carrying the pot had taxed his strength, and he’s tired enough to go back to bed already. Steve’s body seems constricted, like the skin’s too small, even with Bucky inside rather than Steve’s full heart and sense of justice.

Bucky sighs and strips off the undershirt. Steve doesn’t like being less than fully clothed around Bucky, and he’s said enough that Bucky knows he’s ashamed of his body. But what Bucky sees when he looks down is smooth, pale skin. He knows Steve’s thin body and gangly limbs, his slightly concave chest. But he sees _Steve_.

He washes himself carefully. He makes sure the water stays warm, not wanting Steve to get chilled, get sick.

Steve. Him.

It’s damn confusing.

Bucky isn’t the man Steve is. He’s not good. He's not always honest, and he’s selfish. So damn selfish. He strips off the thin shorts and stands there, staring down. They’ve slept in the same bed, and they’re both human, but he’s never seen Steve. Never had a chance to look at him like this, like Bucky shouldn’t be looking.

Strong thighs even though they’re thin. Dark blond hair tangled at the base of Steve’s dick. His dusky rose nipples. HIs cock is thick and slightly flushed, more than a little hard. Steve’s body. Bucky’s mind. Bucky’s want.

“Shit.” Bucky grabs the cloth and cleans up, getting dry and dressed as quickly as he can. Steve’s body doesn’t cooperate like Bucky's used to, arms and legs with minds of their own, and he keeps thinking he’s his normal height and not Steve’s.

Finally dressed, he grabs his jacket and leaves the room, careful to lock the door behind him. Steve’s job at the grocery store starts much later than the work at the docks, but he still can’t let Steve be late. He hurries down the street, pulling up short and slowing down when he realizes he’s having trouble breathing. He gets to Mr. Higgins’s shop about a minute before he’s supposed to be there, which is probably the latest Steve’s ever shown up.

“Heya, Mr. Higgins.”

Higgins sniffs his disapproval. “Sounding more and more like that Barnes boy every day. Boy needs to learn how to respect his elders. Learn some manners.”

Bucky clears his throat to hide his surprise, his anger, and his embarrassment. “Yes, sir.”

**

Steve’s waiting to feel tired. He’s waiting to be light-headed and short of breath. He’s waiting for his body to give out, and yet it doesn’t. He can feel the strain of the muscles, can feel the satisfying burn, but he still feels good. He feels like the next hours of his shift aren’t something to be dreaded.

“Hey! Barnes!” It takes Steve a second to stop himself from looking around for Bucky, realizing the guy is talking to him. The guy gestures Bucky over, and Steve heads toward him and a couple of other guys. He has the hunk of bread and bruised apple that count as his lunch in one hand and his jacket in the other. He recognizes them all from Bucky’s stories and descriptions.

“Hey yourself, Frank.”

“Thursday night. You coming out with us, or are you punkin’ out like usual?”

Steve knows what that means. Bucky acts like the guys don’t ask him to hang out with them, but the truth is that Bucky turns them down so he can stay at home with Steve, nursing him through one illness or another.

“Eh, shut it, Frank. You just wish you had somebody at home who gave a shit about you.”

Frank looks like he’s about the say something, but he glances at him -- Bucky -- and keeps his mouth shut. Steve knows he needs to do the same. These are Bucky’s coworkers. His friends.

“Nah, c’mon, Frank.” Steve’s talking, mouth running off without him. “You got somethin’ to say?”

Frank’s face evens out, and he shakes his head. “Nah, Barnes. Just givin’ ya shit.”

Steve moves to the edge of the group, trying to count to ten and take deep breaths like Bucky always tries to get him to do. He’s Bucky right now, and these are the guys he works with every day. He knows he can’t get into a fight with Frank, even though he has the strength to back up his fury. The anger that _anyone_ would imply that about _Bucky_.

Because what Frank is implying isn‘t true. Or isn’t all true. Steve’s that way. Steve wants Bucky, wants to take care of him, wants to be… More. But Bucky isn’t. Bucky isn’t a deviant in all the ways Steve is. Steve’s body matches his mind -- deformed and wrong. Sometimes he wonders if his sense of right and wrong is his only saving grace.

Lunch ends with a whistle, and Steve gets up. He can feel the hunger eating at his stomach, needing more than just the apple and bread, needing an actual meal. Between hard work and Bucky’s metabolism, the hunger claws at his stomach like a living thing. But last night Bucky had forced the last of the watery soup onto Steve, swearing he was full. Steve knows he’s never full enough, and now he knows for sure that Bucky’s starving.

It fuels Steve, working harder, not smarter, until he realizes that burning the energy is only going to make the ache of hunger worse, make the burn of his muscles worse. When -- it had better be _when_ \-- they switch back, Steve can’t return Bucky’s body in worse condition than when he got it.

**

Bucky is bored out of his mind, and Mr. Higgins is a jerk. He talks to him like Steve is an imbecile, acts like Steve isn’t doing the best he can. Bucky fully intends to show him exactly what he’s capable of, but Steve’s body gets tired easily, and even anger doesn’t keep him going enough to do everything Higgins told him to do at the beginning of Steve’s shift. Bucky glares at Higgins from where he’s restocking the cans of beans. He’s tempted to lob a can at Mr. Higgins, which would get Steve fired, which means they definitely wouldn’t make the rent. 

Instead Bucky just shoves the can in the pocket of Steve’s too-large pants, then tightens the rope that serves as his belt to keep them from falling. By the time Higgins is ready to close up, Bucky’s got a few bruised apples, a couple of brownish bananas, and a can in each pocket. He pays a few pennies for the fruit and heads home after sweeping the front sidewalk. 

Bucky doesn’t know how Steve even has the strength to get into fights after work. Bucky’s exhausted as he leans against the automat wall, waiting for Steve to come from the docks. He finally sees him and watches, trying to see Steve in his walk. He doesn’t see much difference, but then Steve’s always carried himself with enough strength and determination for about ten guys. 

“Hey, Steve.” Bucky pushes off the wall and they fall in step together.

“Hey, Buck.” He slings his arm around Bucky’s shoulders “How was work?”

“Mr. Higgins should treat you better.”

“Yeah, well. Frank’s an ass.”

“Oh, I ain’t arguing that one. What’d he do this time?”

“Just runnin’ his mouth.”

“Like usual then. Just gotta ignore him. Tommy mostly keeps him in check.” Bucky presses a little closer, relishing the heat Steve’s giving off, the way having the arm wrapped around him feels as good in Steve’s body as it does when he’s in his own. “Hey, I got us some dinner.”

Steve makes a face and, even on Bucky’s mug, the expression is completely Steve. “Buck…”

“He deserved it. Besides, Jasper Wilson was in today.”

“Just because he steals doesn’t mean he should get blamed for us takin’ stuff.”

“Jasper Wilson’s folks make enough money that he don’t gotta steal. He does it for laughs. If anyone deserves to get caught, it’s him. ‘Sides. His folks just pay it all back and he don’t get in no trouble.”

“I don’t sound like that. And _you_ sound ridiculous.”

“Aw, hell, Stevie. You know I ain’t nothing but that dumb Barnes kid.”

“You’ve never been dumb a day in your life, and no one’s ever accused you of it.”

“His folks can afford two cans...”

“ _Two_?”

“Of beans.” Bucky says as if Steve hadn’t spoken. “Besides, I paid for the fruit and Higgins charged me two cents more than he shoulda.”

Steve sighs. “Let’s go home before you get in anymore trouble.”

Bucky snorts a laugh. “Now you sound like me.”

**

Steve can’t get over how different everything feels in Bucky’s body. Not just the strength and the height, but how it feels like his body fits together, all of it in proportion. Part of it is in how people look at him, how they see him. How the looks on their faces change so quickly when their gaze shifts from Bucky to Steve.

Disgust and fear, like Steve’s contagious. Then finally it fades into obvious pity. Not for Steve, but for Bucky. It hits Steve hard in the gut because he knows they’re right. Bucky deserves a hell of a lot more than being stuck with Steve Rogers.

“Stop it.” Bucky smacks Steve’s arm.

“Stop what? And remember, hitting me only hurts you in the long run.”

“You’re thinking so damned loud, Mrs. Cooper can hear you over on eighty-third.”

“We don’t know anybody on eighty-third.”

“Yeah. So think how damned confused poor old Mrs. Cooper is.”

Steve rolls his eyes and keeps walking. He’s trying to move like himself in Bucky’s body, and it doesn’t exactly work. Bucky, on the other hand, actually manages to make Steve’s body look graceful.

“Hey, maybe I can teach you to dance while I’m in here,” Bucky says as if his brain is on the same wavelength as Steve’s. “Help your body figure out the right steps from the inside.”

“I ain’t ever gonna be able to dance. Just ‘cause you can doesn’t mean I ain’t got two left feet. Our brains switched. That’s all.”

Bucky stops walking and looks up at Steve. “Oh, that’s all, huh? Just that.” His mouth twists with a smile. “Well, that’s hardly anything at all.”

“Shut up.”

“Guess since neither of us have much, it was probably easier to just flip ‘em around.”

“You’re plenty smart.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Somehow it still seems like Bucky’s smile, even on Steve’s face. “It don’t matter. We’ll wake up tomorrow back where our brains belong, and probably won’t even believe this ever happened.”

“You think we’re gonna forget about getting our brains mixed up?” Steve knows he’s got to be looking at Bucky like he’s grown another head. Though, after today, it wouldn’t surprise him. “That’s something that just slips your mind?”

“Right now, I don’t pretend to know what my brain’s got up its sleeve, because it did all this on its own. Who knows what it’ll do next.”

“Don’t give it ideas. Your brain gets us in enough trouble.”

Bucky looks at him incredulously. “I ain’t the one who gets us in trouble. That’s all on you, Stevie-boy.”

Steve shoves Bucky. “Shut it, Barnes.”

“Yeah. You go ahead and make me.”

**

Steve smirks, and Bucky just wishes Steve _would_ make him. Push him up against the wall with all of Bucky’s own strength. He wishes he could feel it from both sides. He swallows hard and tries to get the thought out of his head, tries to think of something else, anything else.

“Oh, shit.”

Steve looks over at him. “What?”

“I’ve -- or, well, you’ve got a date tonight.”

“Well, you gotta cancel.”

“I can’t. It’s tonight. In an hour. She’s probably all dolled up. We need to get you presentable.”

“Bucky I can’t go on a date. I don’t know what to _do_ on a date.”

“You treat her nice, just like you treat all the girls already.”

Steve sighs. “Who is it?”

“Margie Thompson.”

“Margie Th -- No.”

“Why not? She’s a nice girl.”

“She’s a... since when do you date…” Steve looks around and drops his voice. “She’s got a _reputation_ , Buck.”

“Since when do you care about stuff like that? _Believe_ stuff like that?”

“You sayin’ she’s not gonna want me to kiss her or something?”

“Well, yeah. You gotta kiss her goodnight.”

“On the cheek?” Bucky just stares at him and Steve manages to blush nearly as red in Bucky’s body as he does in his own. His expression turns belligerent as Bucky watches. “What?”

“You ever kissed a girl?”

Belligerent turns to embarrassed anger. “You _know_ I haven’t.” Steve walks off, leaving Bucky behind. Bucky curses beneath his breath and hurries to catch up. Steve’s walking fast, so Bucky’s a little out of breath when he finally does. 

“Hey, I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Steve just shrugs. “So I can’t go out on a date. Especially with Margie.”

“It’s not hard.”

“You kissed her before?”

“Well…”

“So it’s not like I can just fake it. _You’ve_ got a reputation.”

Bucky shrugs one shoulder and looks up at Steve, then away. “I could teach you.”

Steve blinks at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” Bucky says, feeling the blush heat up his cheeks. Steve grabs Bucky’s arm and jerks him into an alley. He can feel the bruise starting to form even as he pulls his arm out of Steve’s grip. “Hey! That hurts!”

“What’d you say?”

“What?”

“What did you say?”

Bucky thinks for a minute and then blushes deeper. “Nothin’.”

“You can’t say shit like that, Buck! You want people to think you’re… _I’m_ some kind of invert? That I’m like that?”

“No! No! Of course not. I meant, like, with a pillow or something. I could give you, you know, like pointers.” Panic beats at Bucky’s chest, but finally Steve lets out a long exhale.

“Oh.” He nods. “Okay. That’s okay, but you can’t just say shit like that.”

“I know. Just wasn’t thinking.” Bucky swallows and mentally kicks himself. Not only is it clear Steve isn’t a freak like him, but he almost gave it away that he _is_ one. “Sorry.”

Steve shakes his head. “Well, you’re an idiot.”

“I’m in your body. Guess that actually makes _you_ the idiot.”

“ _Your_ brain.”

“Yeah, whatever you say, Rogers.” Bucky bumps into Steve and Steve throws his arm back over Bucky’s shoulders. It’s nice to see them fall into the same habits no matter which body they’re in.

**

Steve’s heart pounds as they walk back to their apartment. Bucky’s suggestion had taken his breath away and made his whole body feel like it was on fire. Of course, it wasn’t what Bucky meant. There’s no way Bucky was like him. Bucky kissed girls. Liked girls.

They go inside and Bucky looks Steve over. “I’m gonna go get some water to clean you up. What’d you do? Crawl in the dirt? Get dumped in the Atlantic?”

“Yeah, yeah. Worked my butt off today.”

“ _My_ butt. Which the girls like, so maybe don’t get rid of it.”

“Just get the water.”

“Get undressed. Ain’t no dame gonna want to be seen with you looking like that.”

“So if I stay like this I don’t have to go?”

Bucky moves close, looking up into Steve’s eyes. It’s still easier to think of him as Bucky even though Steve’s looking at himself. “Rogers, you’re not getting out of this. Now strip or I’ll do it for you.” He grabs the pot and heads toward the bathroom.

Steve sighs and looks down at himself. At Bucky. There’s no way Bucky’s going to let Steve out of this date, so he takes off his work clothes. Bucky comes back when Steve’s down to his underwear. He doesn’t even look -- it’s his body after all -- just goes to the stove to get the water heated up. Going to the bed, he comes back into the room, tossing one of their pillows at Steve.

“Pucker up.”

Steve stares at the pillow and then at Bucky. Bucky raises an eyebrow. Steve sighs and holds the pillow up in front of him. “I…”

“Steve. Kiss the pillow.”

“I hate you.”

“Look, it’s the pillow, your hand, or your own ugly mug. Your choice.”

Steve smacks a kiss against the back of his hand and Bucky snorts. Steve’s eyes narrow and he does it again, longer.

“You look like you’re being tortured.”

“I’m kissing your hand. It’s weird.”

“Fine.” Bucky walks closer and touches Steve’s cheek. Steve blinks, looking down at Bucky. “What’re you doing?”

“Kiss your hand.”

“But you’re using it!”

“Steve. We don’t have all night.” He moves his hand, fingers stroking his own cheek. Steve watches Bucky’s -- his -- hand move, touching and sliding down to his mouth. Steve’s imagined this. Something like this.

Touching Bucky.

Bucky’s hand curves around Steve’s jaw and Steve instinctively ducks his head, his lips brushing Bucky’s palm.

“Good. Light. Barely there at first.” Steve stares at Bucky wide-eyed. “More.”

Tilting his head, Steve presses a firmer kiss to Bucky’s palm. Bucky’s breath catches and Steve pulls back. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No. No. You’re doing great. Practically a pro.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Don’t believe that for a damned minute.”

Bucky shrugs. “Okay, so the next part’s a little… It’s more… uh, involved.”

“French kissing.” Steve feels a little breathless, which is strange with Bucky’s healthy lungs, but this is different than it is with his asthma or any of the other things that took his breath away. This feels good. Frightening. “With tongues. I’m not clueless.”

“Well, uh, she’s gonna expect that.”

“‘Cause you’ve done it with her before.”

Bucky shrugs and Steve grits his teeth. He knows that Bucky’s been out with plenty of girls, and they weren’t all double dates that ended with Bucky kissing the cheek of his girl while Steve was lucky to get a handshake. Some nights Bucky went out alone, came back disheveled, his styled hair rumpled and loose.

“So I gotta.” He looks at the hand in front of him. He’s seen it from both sides now. Long, thin fingers, pale skin. Frail, just like the rest of him. Without letting himself think, he leans in and licks his palm. His brain freezes. Even if he and Bucky are in the wrong bodies, Bucky’s tongue just slid across Steve’s hand.

“That ain’t quite it.”

“I know that! But how’m I supposed to do it with my hand? How’d you learn?”

“Debbie Howard. Neither of us knew what we were doing.”

“When?”

“Well, uh, I think you were at Mass.”

“ _Seriously_?”

“I said an ‘Our Father’ after.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“Well, knew you’d get mad I was makin’ out with a dame when I was supposed to be at Mass. Plus you know you get all embarrassed.”

“I do not!”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “I don’t like telling you that stuff, Steve. You get all upset at me.”

“No I don’t.”

“Really?”

“Not at you.”

“Okay.” Bucky sighs. “We’re not getting very far, and you still have to clean up. So.”

“So?”’

“So fuck it.” Bucky shakes his head, grabs Steve by the ears, and yanks him forward.

**

Bucky presses his mouth against Steve’s. Steve gasps and Bucky takes advantage of his parted lips to slide his tongue over Steve’s. He has to go up on his toes, but his hands slide into Steve’s hair and Steve’s arms catch his hips and it’s so easy. So _fucking_ easy.

It’s nothing like he imagined. He imagined leaning down into Steve, pulling him against him. Wrapping his arms around Steve and half-lifting him so they were closer to the same height. Stumbling back to the couch to settle Steve on his lap.

But this is perfect. Steve’s mouth is hot, and Bucky knows it intimately. He teases all the places that drive him crazy when he’s kissing a girl. The tip of his tongue slides over the roof of Steve’s mouth, tangles with his tongue. Steve is whimpering into the kiss, and his hands curl in Bucky’s loose pants, fisting the fabric. 

Bucky has to pull away, light-headed and gasping for a deeper breath. He looks up at Steve and looks at his own face. His pupils dilated, his mouth red and full from the pressure. His gaze drops; Steve’s body is bare and it’s easy to see the hard peaks of his nipples. Bucky lets himself look further, rationalizing that it’s his body he’s looking at, needing to see if whatever it is inside him that wants Steve is still in there, making him react. 

Steve’s cock is hard, tenting his underwear. Bucky’s familiar with the feeling and, even though he’s never done anything with a guy before, he wants to drop to his knees and take Steve in his mouth, suck him like the few girls Bucky’s gone further with have done. His face burns with shame, and he looks down at his feet.

And he’s just as hard.

His eyes jerk up to Steve’s staring over Bucky’s shoulder, deliberately not looking at him. Bucky reaches up with a trembling hand and cups Steve’s cheek. “Look at me?”

Steve shakes his head and pulls away, going into the small kitchen and taking the water off the stove. He digs one of their washrags out and starts cleaning off the grime from the day. Bucky stares after him, lips pursed. 

Steve washes methodically, standing on the towel Bucky had left on the floor this morning. Bucky sighs and sits on the chair they’d managed to salvage from a dumpster, careful to avoid the spring that sticks out of the fabric. He’s ruined everything. After a few minutes, he can’t stand to look at Steve or sit in the silence, so he goes into their bedroom and digs out clothes for Steve to wear. 

“You gone all the way with her?” He looks up and Steve’s standing in the doorway, his hair wet and not yet styled with pomade. Bucky shakes his head. “How far?”

“Felt her up. Her tits. Hands under her dress on her ass.”

“I ain’t gonna sleep with her.” Steve reaches for the pomade, but Bucky grabs it and puts some on his fingers, reaching out to style Steve’s hair, careful not to touch his face. “That’s on you. Ain’t gonna have my first time listening to some girl call me Buck.”

“You want me to tag along? At a distance I mean?”

“You wanna watch me make time with your girl?”

“No. I…” Bucky exhales. “Just finish getting ready. You need to pick her up pretty soon.” Bucky watches Steve get dressed as methodically as he’d cleaned himself up. Bucky hates the silence. “Did I fuck it up? Us?”

“What?” Steve looks honestly puzzled.

“You’re actin’ like-” Bucky doesn’t finish the thought. Isn’t sure he can. Instead he shakes his head and reaches out to straighten Steve’s collar. “You’re gonna have her eatin’ out of your palm, Stevie.”

Steve gives Bucky a look he can’t decipher, then heads for the door. Bucky waits until it’s shut behind him before he falls back on the bed, grabs the pillow, and wonders how much it would take to suffocate himself.

**

Steve’s backed against an alley wall, and Margie’s got a hand on Steve’s hip and her other one shoved down his pants, wrapped around his dick. Steve knows he needs to stop her because, looks aside, he’s _not_ Bucky, and if Bucky’s going to get a hand job, he really should be here for it. 

“Margie… Marg--” Steve’s voice breaks and he lifts up on the balls of his feet as she squeezes on her upstroke. 

“Need to find a place to go, Buck.” She presses close enough that her breasts brush against Steve’s chest. “Maybe you can convince Rogers to disappear for a night. Maybe find him a date.” There’s a smirk on her face and Steve has the overwhelming desire to push her away. 

“Steve’s not likely to go anywhere.”

“Pretty sure he’d do anything for you.” She bites his lower lip sharply. “You gonna touch me?”

“I…”

“C’mon, Bucky. Told me last time you were gonna get your fingers all wet.”

Steve’s whole body feels like it’s on fire. Not just from what she’s saying, but the thought of Bucky saying it. Hearing Bucky’s voice in his head saying the words, Bucky’s finger doing those things.

“Know you’re not going to let me do all the work.” She stills the hand on Steve’s cock and uses her free one to grab Steve’s wrist and push his hand beneath her skirt, between her legs. “Or is everything I’ve heard about you being a gentleman a lie?”

“I…” Steve can feel the heat through the fabric of her panties and his fingers twitch, the movement running them over the damp material. Her hand starts moving again and she grins a kiss against his mouth. “Margie.”

“C’mon, Bucky. Touch me.”

“I… I can’t.” Steve jerks away, stumbling to the side and out of her grasp. Margie stares at him, her eyes narrowed. 

“What?”

“I can’t. I mean, not tonight. I can’t… I can’t treat you right like this. In an alley. I’ll convince Steve to take a hike and you can come over. Get it right.” She watches him, looking sharply at his expression. Steve exhales shakily. “You deserve that.”

“You really think you can get Steve out of the apartment?”

Steve wants to laugh, swallowing the manic sound down. “Guarantee it.”

She finally sighs heavily. “Let’s go dancing then. You at least owe me that.”

He manages not to step on any toes, and he can only hope he looks something like Bucky when he’s out on the floor. He walks her home after, and ends up with her in his arms again, just out of the glow of the porch light. When she disappears into the house, he hurries home, scrubbing the waxy taste of lipstick off his mouth with his hand.

Bucky’s still awake, reading one of his Amazing Stories magazines. He looks up when Steve walks in, his eyes wide. “Holy shit. You look like she went after you.”

“She _did_. She had her hand on your dick and wanted you to… touch her. Inside her.”

“Holy shit.” Bucky’s eyes widen further. “Now you’ve gone further than I have with a dame, Stevie.”

Steve pulls his suspenders down then flips Bucky off. “We need to figure this out before you go on another date. Because the next time she expects you to kick me out so you guys can… Well, you know.” He can feel his face burning. “So there you go. Something to look forward to.”

Bucky sticks his leg out and pokes Steve in the thigh with his toes. “How’d it feel? Her hand?”

“LIke a hand. I don’t know. I was panicking, not paying attention.”

Bucky snorts a laugh. “C’mon, don’t give me that. Was her hand soft? She hold you loose or tight?”

“ _Bucky!_ ” Steve shoves Bucky’s foot away. “I was trying to get her to _stop_. She’s your girl, not mine. And I’m not gonna… do that when I’m stuck in your body.”

Bucky flops back on the bed. “Yeah, yeah.” He blows out a breath. “I just ain’t never had that, you know? Just my hand.”

“Well, now you’ve got another one to work with.” Steve nods in Bucky’s direction, but doesn’t meet his eyes. He sees Bucky’s gaze drop to his crotch in the periphery of his vision. “I mean, I ain’t gonna be mad if you do.”

“You think I’d be mad if you did?”

“No. I just can’t. I mean, bad enough I have to piss for you. You ain’t supposed to be handling your best pal’s dick.”

“You just said I could.” Bucky raises an eyebrow then shrugs. “Besides, right now it’s your body, so it’s your dick.”

“It’s not _mine_. It’s yours.”

Bucky’s quiet for a long time as Steve strips out of his dress shirt, carefully hanging it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. “You were hard for her, right?”

“Someone had their _hand_ on me. Of course I was hard, Jesus.”

“You still?”

“What? No!” Steve flushes hard enough that his whole body feels hot. Margie’s hand had been thin and soft with long fingers, and Steve hadn’t been able to keep from thinking about how her hand looked so much like his own, wondering what it would feel like to have his hand wrapped around Bucky. He feels his cock hardening at the thought.

Bucky licks his lips and suddenly Steve can’t swallow. His hand on Bucky’s dick, another kiss like the one they’d shared. His breath is coming hard and tight in his chest. “I mean, if you were, I could… I mean, we could help each other out. I mean, if I’m using your hand to jerk me off, it’s kind of like me doing it to myself, right? And vice versa.”

“Buck…” It feels like Steve can’t breathe, like Bucky’s suffering from the same asthma that plagues his own body. “We…”

Bucky reaches out and snags Steve by the wrist and pulls him closer. Steve stumbles into him and Bucky wraps his hand in Steve’s hair and pulls him in, kissing him again. Steve groans roughly. 

“Tell me to stop, Stevie.”

Steve shakes his head. “Don’t. Please.”

Bucky moans into Steve’s mouth and tugs him closer. Steve doesn’t let himself crowd too close, not wanting to put too much pressure on his body, knowing far too well how fragile he can be. Of course, when he’s fantasizes about this, Bucky isn’t gentle. He’s rough, demanding, _taking_. Steve wraps a hand around the back of Bucky’s head and pulls him in and slots his mouth over Bucky’s, tongue sliding deep. 

Steve doesn’t know what’s going on. His brain is spinning, a whirlwind of thoughts -- _Bucky’s kissing him. Bucky’s touching him. This can’t be happening. This shouldn’t be happening. Never never let it stop_. 

** 

It should be strange like this, touching his own body with Steve’s hands. But it’s not. It’s right because it’s Steve. His hands tremble as he touches Steve’s chest. Delicate, artists hands that settle on his broad, tanned chest. Nipples hardening at his touch. 

“Jesus, Stevie.” Bucky scrapes his thumbnail across the nipple, like he’s done countless times to himself when he’d jerked off. Steve arches toward him and makes a noise low in his throat. “You’re so beautiful.”

“You are.” Steve tells him. “You’re pretty much lookin’ in the mirror, Buck.” His voice is breathless, tight in his chest. It feels like asthma, except asthma has never felt this good. 

“No. ‘m looking at you.” Bucky reaches up and rubs Steve’s lower lip. “Don’t care what body you’re wearing. Can always see you.”

“I…”

Bucky shakes his head and reaches down, rubbing Steve through his slacks. He needs Steve undressed, because neither of them can afford the time it would take to wash and dry their clothes. Instead he just manages to get them open, his hand sliding in to wrap around Steve’s dick. 

It’s strange knowing he’s the one stroking the skin, even though it’s not his hand doing the work. To know he’s jerking himself off, even though _Steve_ is doing it. No, Steve is watching him. Watching his own hand stroke Bucky, watching his thumb slide over the white drop of precome pearling at the slit. 

Steve makes a noise and Bucky tightens his grip. He can feel the blood pulsing under Steve’s skin, can feel how hard Steve is in his hand. Bucky can’t bear to look away. This is like his every illicit wet dream come true. This is all the dark secrets he harbors laid out in the faint light from the moon outside.

“Touch me. Touch me, Stevie.” His voice breaks on Steve’s name. “Please.”

Steve makes a sound deep and low in his throat as he sticks his hand inside Bucky’s underwear. He wraps his hand around Bucky’s dick. Bucky expects the rough, callused feel of his fingers, but on Steve’s delicate skin it feels like the strike of a match against flint. Hot and sharp and perfect. They’re both circumcised -- Bucky at eight days old and Steve when the doctors thought it would help prevent further defects in him -- and so nothing feels different in that regard, but watching his hand moving over Steve is everything.

He kisses Steve again. He can’t help it. Can’t help going up on his toes and pressing their lips together. Can’t help breathing against him, into his mouth, against his skin. “Yeah. Ye-yeah. L…” Bucky scrapes his teeth over his lower lip. “Like that. O-oh.”

Steve’s hand tightens and Bucky returns the favor. His cock feels bigger in Steve’s hands, even with his longer fingers. Steve is panting roughly, his hips jerking, thrusting into Bucky’s grip. He’s slick from leaking and they’re close together, enough that Bucky can watch them jerk each other off. 

He feels Steve tense, feels the familiar pulse of his dick that means he’s on the edge, that one slight push will send him tumbling over. Normally it’s a thought of Steve that pushes him over, but this time it’s the sight of the tight ring of Steve’s fingers wrapped around the thickness of Bucky’s cock. Steve’s hand _touching_ him. Bucky’s knees tremble and he comes, Steve’s cock a mess in Bucky’s hand. 

“Oh, God, Bucky.” Steve whispers hoarsely. “I…” He doesn’t manage much more than that before he’s spilling his own orgasm. Bucky doesn’t know how to think about it -- his, Steve’s, theirs -- but he knows that this was them. Whatever it was that just happened.

**

Steve stares between them. Both of their hands are messy, slick with white come between their fingers and on their palms. He can feel Bucky looking at him, and Steve’s afraid to meet his eyes. He’s not really sure how any of this got started and, even worse, he doesn’t regret that it did. Seeing his cock in Bucky’s fist, seeing Bucky’s cock in his is the worst and best thing Steve’s ever wanted in his entire life. 

Steve carefully lets Bucky go, searching around frantically for something to use to wipe off his hand. He lets the dress slacks fall to the ground, hoping they’re not filthy. He steps out of them, nearly tripping over his own feet, but catching his balance before he has to reach out and grab something with his come-covered hand. He finally sees the washrag he’d used earlier and scrubs it over his palm and fingers before bringing it back to Bucky.

He strips out of the rest of his clothes, tossing his undershorts into the small pile to be laundered. He grabs a new pair and puts them on before hanging Bucky’s slacks over his shirt on the chair. When he looks up, Bucky’s in a new pair of undershorts as well, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking at Steve.

He clears his throat and leans against the dresser. He tries to think of something to say, but he can’t get past the crashing of his blood in his head. He’s kissed Bucky now. Multiple times. He’s jerked Bucky off. 

“You want me to move out?”

Bucky opens his mouth then snaps it shut, like he was about to respond to whatever he thought Steve was going to say and not what came out of his mouth. He opens it again, but nothing comes out, and it’s not until his third try that he manages to find his voice.

“What?”

“Because I…”

“Because _I_ kissed you?”

“You were just helping me. Or yourself. For the date.”

“Okay, Rogers. You’ve been stupid before, but this is ridiculous.” Bucky huffs out a breath and actually looks mad. 

Steve frowns. “Hey!”

Bucky gets to his feet and walks up to Steve and, for the first time, maybe Steve sees what Bucky always says about him. Fire and anger and frustration. A big man in a little body with too much anger and pride. “You.” Bucky jabs him in the chest. “Are a complete fucking idiot.”

“How am _I_ an idiot?”

“Because.” Bucky stops right in front of him and frames Steve’s face in his hands. “Because I don’t give a shit how you or I or anyone else kisses Margie.”

“Then why…”

“Because you, dumbass.” Bucky doesn’t say anything else, but then they’re kissing again. This time Bucky’s controlling the kiss, not trying to give it over to Steve. This time it’s hot and deep and Bucky’s tongue is in his mouth, tasting him. This time Steve realizes that the things Bucky had done in that first kiss were the things that made Bucky feel good, the things he liked. 

This time Steve wraps his arms under Bucky’s ass and lifts him up and deepens the kiss.

Steve knows that, if it were him in his body, he’d be torn between fighting Bucky for holding him and wrapping his legs around him to pull him closer. Bucky, on the other hand, simply wraps everything he can around Steve and kisses him back, heels digging into Steve’s ass. Steve adjusts his grip and, even though he’s not hard again, he can feel his cock stirring at the pressure of Bucky’s body at his hips, the line of Bucky’s cock against his stomach. 

Steve groans and stumbles the few steps to the bed, kneeling on the thin mattress so he can lay Bucky back onto it. He still hangs on, arms wrapped around Steve’s neck as Steve braces himself over him. He’s looking into his own eyes, but all he sees is Bucky. He can’t understand how no one figured it out. How anyone could look at him and see Steve. Bucky shines like a fucking beacon of light. 

Bucky spreads his legs and Steve settles between them. Instead of resting on his shoulders, Bucky slides his hands down to Steve’s ass and pulls him against him. Steve doesn’t know how they’re hard again so quickly except that it’s Bucky, and whatever magic has switched their bodies has made this possible, and he’s not going to squander the opportunity. 

The strangeness and awkwardness of being someone else is nothing compared to the feel of their cocks sliding together through the fabric of their shorts, and then there’s nothing but flesh when Bucky tugs the material down. It’s hot and wet and then Bucky wraps Steve’s long fingers around them and jerks them both off together.

Coming with Bucky, against Bucky, whites out Steve’s brain and he groans roughly. They must fall asleep then because the next thing Steve knows, he’s waking up.

**

Bucky can breathe. 

It’s the first thing he notices, though it’s followed rapidly by the realization that Steve’s underneath him. Not Steve in Bucky’s body. Steve. Blond and sleep disheveled and beautiful with his dark lashes on his pale cheeks. 

And naked.

Bucky shifts slightly, trying to redistribute his weight so that it’s not all on Steve, but the movement causes Steve’s eyes to flutter open. Bucky can see him process everything, and then Steve’s eyes snap up to his. Bucky tries to smile, but he’s not sure he achieves it. 

“Uh. Morning?”

“You’re you again.”

“Yeah.” Bucky clears his throat. “So that was weird, huh?”

Steve’s brow furrows and Bucky’s not sure why. Eventually though, Steve nods just slightly. “Yeah. Weird. I should… I have to work today.” He squirms underneath Bucky and Bucky’s pretty sure it has the opposite effect than whatever Steve intended, because Bucky’s already half-hard and Steve rubbing against him finishes the job for him. “Oh.”

Bucky’s not sure why that makes him realize why Steve was frowning. Maybe it’s not that, but just the fact that they know each other so well. “I didn’t mean us. I mean, it was different, but not weird. It was… I really liked it. I meant the whole switching bodies thing. You being me and me being you.” He knows he’s rambling, but he has no idea how to say any of what he wants to say, needs to say. 

“Yeah. That was weird.”

“Last night was amazing.”

Steve’s eyes shift from where he was staring over Bucky’s shoulder to meet Bucky’s eyes. “What?”

“Last night. You. Me. It was amazing. I mean, I understand if you don’t think…” Bucky stops immediately when Steve scowls at him. “What?”

“Don’t you dare say I didn’t think it was amazing.”

“I didn’t.”

“You were going to.”

“No I wasn’t. I was going to say that I understood if you didn’t…”

“I wanted it.”

Bucky’s quiet for a long moment before he huffs a laugh. “Damn it, Steve. You’re the only person I know who can make a confrontation out of both of us wanting what happened. You gonna fight me over which one of us was messier?”

“No. It doesn’t count because we weren’t ourselves.”

“You’re right.” Bucky shifts and puts himself directly over Steve, looking down at him. Even in light of last night, he’s got no real idea what he’s doing, but the way Steve looks at him makes him think this is the right thing. “Guess we’re gonna have to do it again.”

**

Steve’s been out of the ice for a year. He’s been sitting in one of Tony’s conference rooms with a pile of books, a lot of redacted files, and the answer to a mystery. 

It’s in a shipping manifesto that he shouldn’t have access to, that Stark provided because he grudgingly said he’d get Steve everything he needed. And there’s really no reason that Steve shouldn’t be allowed to see this. One relic to another.

It’s a beautiful thing. Golden with a symbol between the two cherubim. Their wings stretched toward one another, creating a haven for the symbol to rest. Long golden poles and intricate inlaid carvings. To the rest of the world it’s a myth, but Steve knows it’s not. There’s no such thing as myths anymore.

It was on a ship that moored in New York at the docks where Bucky worked. Bucky had climbed aboard that day. Touched the crates as he’d counted them, checked the manifest since no one else was around to do it. Steve remembers being told about it before they’d gone to sleep. Before they’d woken up as each other. 

He doesn’t know why the Ark would have done that. He remembers the stories from Mass and the stories that Bucky’s mother had told them about Yom Kippur and the blood of sacrificial lambs, atonement and forgiveness. Maybe it was the universe’s way -- God’s way -- of forgiving him and Bucky for what they’d always been told was the sin of loving each other.

Maybe it was asking forgiveness of them for what they would have to go through. 

Maybe it was simply that the two of them would be sacrificial lambs.

Or maybe it wasn’t any of that.

Maybe it was just that, on September 25, 1936, the world twisted in on itself and managed to give Steve Rogers everything he wanted to make up for the fact that nine years later it would take it from him forever.


End file.
